


Coping Strategies

by roseforthethorns



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub Play, Fingering, James helping Q deal, Light Bondage, M/M, Q Backstory, Rimming, There will be smut in part 2, being overwhelmed, not office official yet, sharing memories, sort of secret relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2018-12-30 13:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12110145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseforthethorns/pseuds/roseforthethorns
Summary: Being in charge all the time has drawbacks. Being in charge with no effective strategies in place to deal with anxiety and feeling overwhelmed can send a certain Quartermaster teetering towards the edge with only James to pull him back.





	1. Overwhelmed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Boffin1710](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/gifts).



> For boffin1710. For everything.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta on this, castillon02.

James arrives at Q-branch to find the minions scurrying about with a little more urgency than usual. His mobile had been buzzing when he’d stepped from the MI6 showers after his daily swim with a message from R.

_ Code Russian Winter. ASAP. -R _

It had taken no time to dress and report to Q’s second in command, and James schools his expression into polite concern to mask the anxiety curling in his stomach. Q isn’t anywhere to be seen amongst the hustle and bustle. What had happened?

“007, reporting for duty,” he says as R looks up from her screen.

“Something like that.” R smiles thinly, and James notes how tired she looks. There are new lines around her eyes, and the circles under her eyes look more like bruises than usual. “He’s in his office, and I’ve given strict orders he isn’t to be disturbed.”

“What happened?”

She sighs. “What hasn’t happened? Between 004 and 006, he’s been working longer hours than usual, and this morning several prototypes malfunctioned. One exploded and injured the tech. He had three meetings back to back this morning, no break for meals, and one of the meetings had him threatening a superior with his version of a Colombian Necktie if he interfered with Q’s budget.”

”Dare I ask?”

“Same principle, but in reverse. You pull the tie through the hole in the throat and out the mouth as the new tongue. Anyhow, he's liable to actually stab someone at the moment, hence the warning level I sent.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“You're together, aren't you?” James opens his mouth to protest, but R waves him off. “It was rhetorical. I knew when he wore your cologne to work by mistake a few months back. When he's like this, we can't help him. But I think you can. Just… help him. Get him out of himself. He hasn't had a chance to decompress for days. The last minion to bring him tea ran when he threw the mug because it wasn't done to his liking.”

“That doesn't sound like Q.”

“I know.”

James adjusts his tie and strides up to Q’s office. The door is unlocked, and James closes it behind him. The room is in a state: piles of papers cover nearly every available surface that isn't cluttered with more than the usual amount of tech. Q has his back to the door while fixing something at his workbench. Empty mugs and biscuit packets are strewn about with the rest of the debris. 

Q himself looks rumpled; his hair stands on end as if he's been pulling it. His cardigan and trousers have lines from sitting at his desk, and his shirt is untucked and hanging down. Softly, James makes his way through the room and up behind Q to peer over his shoulder. 

The item on the desk is a watch, and he can see now that Q has extra magnifying lenses on while he works adjusting a few of the cogs inside before closing the face and setting down his tools.

“A new toy?”

Q jumps and spins around, ready to strike with a small screwdriver, but James catches his wrist easily. “It's me. It's all right.”

Q blinks, then stares at James through several sets of lenses before taking off his watchmaker gear. “I don’t need a minder if that’s what R told you.”

“No, she didn’t say that.”

“Because I’m fine. No matter what anyone says.”

James stares impassively at Q while really looking at his face. Q looks exhausted, and James can feel the wrist he’s holding trembling slightly. No, Q is not fine, and something in James’ chest tightens. He realizes he wants to help the trembling stop. He wants to help Q feel better. He wants to take care of Q. “I’ve heard quite a bit to the contrary from your minions. You have them running scared.”

“It’s been a day. May I have my hand back, 007?”

“Still adamant about the rules at work? Your office door is closed, and all the shades are drawn. Knowing you, it’s soundproof too.”

“I’m not… We have to be professional here. I’m your bloody superior.”

“And we’ve been sleeping together for several months.”

“I’m not fucking you at work.”

“Then what do you need?”

“I need for everyone to go AWAY!” Q almost shouts the last part, and it takes him a minute to realize what he’s said. “I… that’s not…I don’t mean...” He’s trembling like a leaf now, and James can see how tightly Q is coiled. He’s barely keeping the tension at bay. So James steps forward and wraps Q in the tightest hug he can and just holds him.

Q resists for nearly ten seconds, ten long seconds that seem much longer to James. The thought of whether to just let Q go is crossing his mind when Q’s shoulders begin shaking; this isn’t the trembling of someone on the edge of losing control anymore. Q’s crying.

James holds him tighter, and the floodgates open. Q begins sobbing into James’ suit jacket, and for a minute they don’t move. James hugs Q while Q just cries, and when it’s clear it isn’t stopping soon, he gently guides Q to the sofa while keeping at least one arm around his shoulders, then sitting down and gathering Q to his chest. It’s been a long time since he last comforted someone in this much distress, but James remembers to hold tight enough to reinforce his presence and emphasize that Q is safe. He remembers to run a hand through Q’s hair, knowing that that sometimes helps him relax; a few minutes of this and Q manages a slow, shuddering breath before reaching for a nearby box of tissues. He blows his nose several times and chucks the used tissues in the bin.

“It’s so loud, in my head,” he mutters to James. “It’s so much, and everything is so loud, and I can barely think anymore. I don’t remember half the things I’ve done today.” He sniffs and begins crying again into James’ shoulder. 

To his credit, James doesn’t try to fix it. That’s not what Q needs. He wonders when the last time was that someone did this for Q, held him when he needed it or helped him when he was overwhelmed. His stomach sinks as he starts to think it’s either been a very long time or that Q has had to self-comfort his whole life. Q deserves so much better, so much more.

They don’t talk about their pasts; it’s an unspoken rule. James never talks about his family, and Q doesn’t offer details about himself. They’ve been fucking for six months, and James still doesn’t know Q’s real name. He could very well have legally changed it to “Q” for all James knows. Q needs a way out of himself, a way to step back and exhale. James knows several ways to do that, but he’s not about to initiate sex with Q while Q is crying. So he tries something different.

“My father taught me how to shoot,” he says quietly while stroking Q’s hair. “He had an Anderson Wheeler Double Rifle, beautiful thing. We would shoot cans off the fence at fifty paces. I must’ve missed the first several times, but he was patient. The first time I hit something was a tomato can, shot clean through the first “o” of “Tomato”. He clapped me on the shoulder and set up glass bottles.” Q’s no longer crying, but James continues as if he hasn’t noticed. “He had started teaching me hunting when I turned twelve. We had these beautiful hounds, Clark and Aaron, who would go with us. I got to help skin and cook the first rabbit I ever caught, though I didn’t much fancy dinner after helping Mrs. Kincade with that task. I ate the stew anyway though. I think he was proud of me, my father.” The memories don’t hurt quite as much as they usually do, perhaps because they’re happier times from his childhood on the Scottish moors. James looks down to find Q staring up at him, curious. His eyes are red from crying, but his face is dry now. “We went a few more times, caught more rabbits and a few birds. He felled a deer, and we had venison that night.” A month later his parents had gone on their holiday.

“I used to have the worst sweet tooth,” Q says, running a finger down James’ tie. “Mum would sit me on the counter while she baked, and I would always try and steal some of the batter. So when I was seven she let me start helping, and if I promised not to taste before she was done, I could lick the bowl.” James looks down and sees Q smiling though his eyes are far away. “The first thing I learned how to make was a Victoria Sponge, and Mum always made homemade jam to go with it, but my favorite thing she made when I was little was brownies. One time I got sick off the batter and couldn’t have dinner or dessert at all. I was devastated.” 

James combs his fingers through Q’s hair and smiles a little. He can picture Q with wild hair and large glasses trying to reach the counter to help bake. Maybe even with smudges of flour on his cheek. James’ chest grows warm, and he holds Q a little tighter. 

Q sighs and presses closer. “Thank you. For staying. I didn’t realize how loud everything was in my head until you came in.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Calmer. Tired. Could use a drink. Could use a lot of things actually. I haven’t had anyone help me with this since my parents died.” So they both are orphans, James thinks, and his heart twinges.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well… as long as we’re together, I suppose I wouldn’t object to help when I get too overstimulated from work. Honestly, when it used to happen in Uni, I would find my boyfriend and have him fuck me against the nearest available surface until I couldn’t move. It forces me to surrender control, gets me out of my head. Shuts my head up a lot of the time, too.”

“Am I hearing it’s okay to fuck you at work?”

Q chuckles and blows his nose again. “For now, only when I’m this overwhelmed, all right? I have to maintain at least some level of decorum. And I’ll need to upgrade the soundproofing on my office.” They stay like that for a while, James holding Q and Q resting his head over James’ heart until one of the alarms on Q’s monitor goes off. “Sorry. That’s 006. I have to go.”

James lets go and Q stands, straightening his clothes and striding to his desk. There’s almost no trace of Q’s meltdown left; he’s the Quartermaster once again, and James slips from the office while Q busies himself with work. James hadn’t expected to share such a personal memory, and the fact that Q had shared one back… maybe they really were more than just sleeping together. He hadn’t entertained that as a possibility until now, and the longer he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he doesn’t really mind. He can’t deny anymore that he cares about Q, and he certainly wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. Maybe next time he’ll be able to help more.


	2. What He Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James makes good on his promise and his and Q's talks about how to help Q get out of his own head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so so sorry this took so long... mental health is a real challenge.
> 
> Boffin, I hope this does it justice. :)

Two weeks and one mission later, James finds himself back in Q-branch answering a text summons from Q. Shutting the office door behind him, James finds Q pacing and throwing sharpened pencils at a target pinned to corkboard on the wall. “Tough day, darling?”

Q doesn't turn as he throws another pencil and it sticks to the center of the target. “I have had three straight days of meetings. If one more person mentions budgets or improved efficiency or not enough funds, I'm going to crash all their servers and set them on fire.”

James walks over to Q and gently but firmly grasps his shoulders and squeezes. “You're so tense,” he murmurs, starting to work out some of the larger knots. “You need to relax.”

“My head is full to bursting. There's so much noise, and it won't  _ stop _ .”

Those words send James thinking to their previous conversations about ways to help Q decompress from work, mulling over their discussions about limits and safewords. When Q says he needs his brain to just stop, James pulls himself up a little straighter and eyes Q with a darker stare.

“Lock the door, pet,” James says quietly.

He sees Q freeze for a second before keying in the code for the door and the office shades. WIth a soft thunk, the deadbolts seal, locking them in; the shades slide down the windows and click into place, and in less than five seconds, they are completely shielded from Q-branch and from gossiping minions. Q faces James, and James can see it in Q’s eyes that this is what he  _ needs _ .

“Color?” James says as he takes slow steps towards Q to crowd him against the wall.

“Green, Sir,” Q replies, and James sees that flicker of pure need in Q’s eyes again before he pins Q to the wall by his wrists.

“You’re to tell me if the color changes.” James’s mouth ghosts up Q’s neck without touching the skin. “You’re to use your safeword if you need it.”

“Am I allowed to make noise, Sir?” Q’s voice is far too controlled, too calm. Well, James aims to fix that.

“That depends. Is the office soundproof?”

“ _ Yes _ .”

“Then yes.” And with that, James crushes their mouths together in a demanding kiss. He feels Q resist for barely three seconds before yielding, and James is in. His tongue slips past Q’s lips and commands complete and total submission. Only when he feels Q’s body melting against his and Q whimpering needily does he relent and bury his nose in Q’s neck.

He finds Q’s pulse point with barely any effort. Q’s heart is pounding loudly, and James swears he can hear it. He draws his tongue slowly up the pounding vein before biting and sucking as hard as he can. Relishing the gasp he draws from Q, James doesn’t stop sucking and worrying the skin with his teeth until he’s positive he’s left a mark.

“I’ve been away too long. You’ve forgotten who you belong to.” James strokes his hand down to cup Q through his trousers, and he swallows the whimper with another bruising kiss. “I think you need reminding. Do you need reminding, pet?”

“Yes,” Q gasps. “Yes, I do. I need reminding.”

“I need reminding…?”

“Sir! Please, Sir.”

James smirks and bites Q’s neck again while quickly working off Q’s tie. “I thought that was the case. Strip, pet. Everything. Now.” James steps back and takes Q’s tie with him, leaning against Q’s desk to watch.

There is something James finds secretly special about watching Q strip. He always enjoys the slow reveal of pale skin and a secretly wiry frame. With the jumper gone and the shirt unbuttoned, Q surprises with a toned body that, James has learned, comes from running in Uni and continuing to run and participate in self defense classes at Six during his breaks. James makes a mental note to spar with Q at a later date before shaking himself from his idle thoughts.

Q stands naked before him.

He is unashamed now in his nakedness; sleeping with a double-oh tends to have that effect after a while. James beckons Q by crooking his finger, and when Q draws close enough to touch, James spins him around and deftly binds Q’s wrists behind his back with his tie. He tests the knot and puts the loose ends in Q’s hands before closing them around the fabric. “Pull if it is too much and the knot will come undone. Color?” James purrs, nibbling on Q’s ear.

“Green. Still green. Sir.” There’s a hitch there that wasn’t before. Q’s facade is slightly shaken.

James grins and gently bites the tempting lobe. “Bend over. Legs apart. Chest against the desk.”

***

Fifteen minutes later has Q sobbing against his desk while James kneels behind him, fully clothed, with two fingers and his tongue buried in Q’s arse. He deftly fingers Q’s prostate while staving off Q’s desperate need for orgasm with his other hand. All the while, James is listening. He’s waiting for that moment when Q begs and can barely form words. Only when Q is ready will James fuck him like this. And fuck him he will, until Q is completely relaxed and all worries and frustrations with work are gone.

It happens when James is fingering Q’s prostate with two fingers and leaving love bites on the backs of his thighs. Q’s wrists twist in their secure bindings, and his cock is still leaking all over James’s other hand.

“Please, fuck, please Sir!”

James almost misses the “Sir” with how strained and desperate Q’s voice is. He stands quickly and takes a moment to shake the pins and needles from his legs while pulling his cock out of his trousers and wrap it in a condom. Fully dressed, James takes his place behind Q and slides his cock slowly between Q’s cheeks. He leans forward to tug on Q’s earlobe and growl before nudging the head of his cock slowly into Q’s arse. He can feel the tension in every single inch of Q’s body, along with monumental trust. Q trusts him enough to place his safety in James’s hands and come back out the other side again. James feels a funny warmth tug in his chest at the thought.

“Let me hear you,” he growls before burying himself completely in Q. James wastes no time in setting a punishing pace, alternately tugging roughly on Q’s hair to pull his head back and leave more love bites on his neck and spanking Q’s bare arse hard enough to echo around the office. All the while, Q is panting and crying out in pleasure and need; nothing he says is recognizable as English, but James knows his lover well enough to tell when Q truly is ready to come.

James doesn’t let up; instead, he bears down and fucks Q even harder than he had been a moment before, digging the fingers of his right hand into Q’s hip hard enough to bruise, his left hand tangled in Q’s hair and yanking.

“You ready? Ready to come? Come on then. Come for me. Come on pet. Come on my cock. Make a fucking  _ mess _ .  _ NOW _ !”

Q’s screams leave James’ ears ringing, and James can feel every single second of the orgasm that tears through Q hard enough to tighten all his muscles before releasing them to leave Q boneless and whimpering. Q’s arse clamps down around him almost tighter than James can bear, and his vision whites out at the edges as he comes.

The following minutes come in pieces. James takes care of the condom first, tucking himself into his trousers before seeing to Q. He unties Q’s wrists and gathers the boneless boffin into his arms on the nearby sofa. Q’s shivering as the sweat from their sex dries on his skin, and James wraps his arms around Q to continue touching and grounding him while warming him all the while. James presses gentle kisses into Q’s hair and wraps the blanket from the back of the sofa around them both. There will be time for work later; Q is more important than paperwork any day.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better… much better… thank you, James…”

“Any time, Q. Any time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and comments welcome! I'm still writing part 2 but it should hopefully be up soon.


End file.
